The voice of valentino
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THE VOICE OF VALENTINO
through LESLIE FLINT by LYNN RUSSELL
REGENCY PRESS © 1965 Lynn Russell All copyrights reserved Made and Printed in Great Britain for REGENCY PRESS (London & New York) LTD. 43 NEW OXFORD STREET, LONDON, W.C.l
This book is dedicated to LESLIE FLINT, in grateful appreciation. May it stand as a tribute to his life’s work as an instrument for Spiritual Enlightenment, of which this is a mere fragment.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I wish to express sincere gratitude to my friends T. T. and S. C. for their assistance in the writing of this book.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER............. PAGE
Preface... 9
I. “Light a Penny Candle from a Star”... 13
II. The Point of No Return... 28
III. The Third Autumn... 46
IV. A Star Ascends... 62
V. The Road to Tranquility... 76
VI. The Birth of Light... 93
VII. Pearls of Wisdom... 105
VIII. The Questing Heart... 119
IX. The Reluctant Incarnate... 131
X. Eternal Values... 145
XI The Sentimental Journey... 157
XII. “Just a Thought Away”... 176
Preface
No one will deny that the material contained in this book is of the kind that invariably makes for controversy, and therefore the writing of it has presented many difficulties. I have been blessed or cursed with an analytical mind and an aptitude for practical application acquired during the years when I held an administrative position of great responsibility. My trained powers of observation have served me well in the investigation which came about unexpectedly through my contact with Leslie Flint, to whom I had gone originally for personal reasons.
At that time I did not know a great deal about the famous film star Rudolph Valentino, and it was only gradually through various channels of communication that the soul of the real man, as opposed to, the pseudo-personality of the silent screen, was revealed. Long before there was any suggestion from him of putting our findings into print, and during the last eight years, the four people of our circle have kept a record of events which now includes 500 closely typed pages and a collection of tapes measuring approximately fifteen miles of magnetic track on which are recorded the direct voices of Valentino and of many other people who came from all walks of life. The following extract is an example of a communication from him, and I have chosen it as an introduction because it conveys by its sincerity and simplicity the true depths of the soul that shone through the much loved personality. I would like to point out that in the written record of the tapes, although the meaning has been retained, the phraseology has occasionally been slightly altered in order to eliminate certain Italian characteristics which might make the reading a little difficult.
When discussing what was meant by Self Illumination he had this to say: “One of the most important things (which I discovered very quickly when I came over to This Side of Life) was that I had to forget myself. I had to forget what I had been, and what I might have accomplished. I had to see things in their true perspective and place myself in the True Light to show up all my defects. For the first time I could see myself as I really was.
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Not as other people had seen me and not what I had assumed I was like. I had to find Truth, and the only way to do so is to place oneself in the Radiance that reveals the weaknesses which have to be eradicated before one can begin to reconstruct. I now see my life and its purpose so clearly. I see what I achieved and where I failed, but above all I see one thing that made me worth while, and that was the love of untold numbers of people who had never seen me in the flesh, and which made possible my redemption. It was this love that still gives me the incentive to return to help and inspire those of you who are seeking Truth, and who, by forgetting ‘self,’ desire to find their True Selves in service to God. It is not I who matter, it is what I may become through the love that is in the hearts of people like you, and through which I shall be helped.
“You may wonder why I come and give my time and my love to you all, but through you I hope to achieve great things for others, and in a strange way the love I give out comes back to me. Love is like that. By bestowing it, it comes back to you. Some times on Earth one does not understand love and often it is accepted as though it were one’s right! I understand so many things as I look back on my life, and I see many mistakes.” His voice trembled slightly and there was a note of sadness in the tone as he continued. “I do not say I was a vain man, but I now realise that physical attributes only matter when they spring from the Mind and from the Spirit, otherwise they are of little value. Perhaps anyone in the position I found myself, rocketed suddenly from obscurity to fame, would have found it very difficult not to have acted as I did.
“If I have left behind in your world something that gives people happiness, then I am grateful, but unless I can help them in a spiritual way, and make them want to seek God, and to understand His purpose for them, then I have not achieved very much. Here and there are people like yourselves who are anxious to find Truth, and your desire to become agents of God’s Will gives me the greatest happiness. If through our work together we achieve something that will enlighten others, then I have not failed to repay the affection that was given to me. “I want you to know that everything I do is done in love and I am but the agent of Others more highly evolved than I am but who, through the medium and me, come in love to serve Mankind. We are bound together by chains that cannot be broken, for each link is strong and secure, held together by love and faith. We are linked through Time and Space by this chain which encircles, not only your world, but ALL WORLDS. There are no limits imposed on the power of love.
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"Now I know that in my last incarnation (which seems so unreal to me) I was being used by Other Forces to express a Universal Love that would in some way touch the hearts of the people, irrespective of nationality, outlook or upbringing. This love was given through the agency of films, and I was only the vehicle of its expression; the vehicle of the Universal Spirit of Love manifesting through strange agencies in a modern world. The purpose was served, and I know now I shall not return to Earth again in the flesh. When I was on Earth I expressed love in a humble way, now I express a more noble aspect of it, yet, it is not wholly my love, for it comes from countless souls in the Realms of Spirit who, through many aeons of Time and many experiences of Life, have found through suffering and joy, Eternal Love.”
In the following chapters I endeavour to show how this influence has touched the lives of many groups of people and ‘I have dedicated myself to write only the truth as it has been presented to us.
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THE VOICE OF VALENTINO
I
“LIGHT A PENNY CANDLE FROM A STAR”
(From the lyric of Galway Bay, with acknowledgement)
I was eleven years old when I first saw Valentino in a film called “The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse,” and my earliest recollection of him is less vivid than my memory of the Apocalyptic Beast upon whose fiery breath rode the grisly foursome. I was at boarding school and the opportunity to go to the pictures only occurred during the holidays, so that whatever knowledge I gleaned of the golden city of Hollywood was through magazines and certain approved weeklies which we were allowed to read. In all I saw only five of his films, and I had a modest number of photographs which also served as a kind of currency among the girls in exchange for such feminine luxuries as bath salts and shampoo powder.
In 1926 when Valentino was taken ill I was quite confident of his recovery. My faith was a very stable institution and I could not imagine anyone who gave so much pleasure to the world being taken away from it. Even when the doctors were doubtful I was not unduly worried, only deeply conscious that he was suffering, and together with thousands of other people I prayed earnestly for his recovery. When the news of his death came this faith was badly shaken.
My father had died seven years before and I remembered with uneasiness my mother’s grief and the widow’s weeds that she wore, but I had not been allowed to miss my father too much, because we had left my home and moved to another district where I went immediately to school. Therefore, this show of public grief over the loss of Rudolph Valentino was the first experience of death to affect me, and it is for this reason that I remember him more clearly.
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My Aunt Emmeline was a great believer in the continuity of life, and I listened attentively as she explained that he would live on, but in much greater happiness. Until now we had always laughed at her convictions and my mother had not responded to her beliefs during her own time of sorrow. I was more impressed than she had been with my aunt’s knowledge and I tried to accept the truth of her words, but I found it difficult because I had completely lost faith in my conception of God! Such is the heart of a child.
Through Rudolph’s close friend and business manager S.G.Ullman, author of a book entitled “Valentino As I Knew Him,” I was able to purchase the small collection of poems called “Daydreams” written by Rudolph, but of which he never claimed authorship, as the contents were through his own gift of mediumship and inspired by the people whose initials appear under each title. I also read the book that was to make such a difference to my life in later years, “Rudy, An Intimate Portrait,” written by his wife Natacha, in which she gave many wonderful messages received by her from him since his passing, through the great American medium George Wehner.
From this the seeds of Knowledge were sown—but in secret, for my mother was against any “dabbling into the psychic.” So time passed and Rudy became a memory. When I left home to begin working, my mother had to find smaller accommodation and she disposed of my collection of photographs and books. I never enquired after them. I was almost seventeen now, and there were many other film stars, but not for me. There had been a finality about Valentino’s death for which not even the consolation in the messages received from him by his wife could compensate, and my interests were not particularly centred in the Arts, because I preferred an open-air life with activities such as swimming and other sports.
My son Anthony, a surviving twin, born in the ‘blitz’ of 1940, was about four years old when events began to set the scene for the years to come. Fortunately he had just been evacuated to relatives when his step-father John and I lost our entire home in an air raid, and we moved temporarily to the town in East Anglia where John was posted and where, a few days later, the news reached us that my first husband was missing in a daylight air attack over France. Although our marriage had broken up it did not alter the fact that both John and I were very anxious about him. Being unable to obtain news from any quarter, I searched the town for a Spiritualist Church without success. Yet that same night my mother, who was living in North London, was impressed to the point of compulsion to attend a Spiritualist service, followed by clairvoyance, which was being held in a nearby hall.
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The medium was Joseph Benjamin, and his first message was given to my mother who was picked out to receive it from a full hall. The communicator established his identity in such a way as to leave no doubt that it was my father, who passed over in 1919. My mother was given the details of the target, the type of plane, the number of the crew and the subsequent fate of Anthony’s father, who had parachuted to comparative safety in occupied territory and was transferred to a prisoner-of-war camp. When he returned to England a year later, we learned that every fact given by my father through Mr Benjamin was correct, including a graphic description of the run-in through a curtain of ‘flak’ and the impact of the anti-aircraft shell which crippled the plane after the load of supplies had been dropped to our ambushed troops.
This message and the wonderful help that was given to her regarding other personal matters intrigued my mother’s enquiring mind, and by the time John and I had returned to London she had become an interested investigator of Spiritualism! Of course she and I joined in this together, and a few years later her search led her to a remarkable Direct Voice medium, Leslie Flint.
On several occasions during the following two years, my mother helped him in his work at the Kingsway Hall and the Scala Theatre, where he gave public demonstrations of the Independent Direct Voice. I was seldom free to accompany her to these meetings and I went only once. One evening on returning from the Kingsway Hall she remarked, “You should have been there tonight.”
“Why tonight particularly?” I asked. She told me that one communicator had given a most inspired address. I knew from the way she spoke that she wanted me to question her as to the identity of the speaker.
“Well, who was it?” I asked unconcernedly, but I was not pre pared for her reply!
‘‘Rudolph Valentino!”
“Really? How interesting,” I observed lamely, and busied myself with the supper tray. The sound of his name was as remote as the memory of the school assembly bell, and I do not remember if I even asked what he had discussed, yet I was strangely disturbed. Some time later Leslie Flint left the locality and my mother went to live in Hove. She heard from him only once after that.
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In 1952 my mother passed over very suddenly, and in the same year we were obliged to leave the house in which we had been living and set up home in a tiny ground floor flat situated in almost rural surroundings. By a strange coincidence Jean, a friend with whom I had worked for several years, moved that same week into a top flat only five minutes’ walk from mine, though like many of us affected by post-war housing difficulties she had been waiting for accommodation for eleven years. Through conversations with my mother and me she had become interested in Spiritualism and had accompanied us to many services in the past, and now she and I attended a service almost every week. Occasionally John would join us, but Jean’s husband Stanley showed no interest in the subject.
John and I had taken up the study of Microscopy since our move to North London. We were members of a Club and became deeply engrossed in the exploring of this diminutive world, attending lectures and meetings regularly. John was surprised therefore one evening in May 1955, when I announced that I wanted to remain at home to hear a radio programme, the title of which “Quest for Valentino” only served to increase his surprise. Among those taking part I had noticed the name of Leslie Flint, and it was with mixed feelings that I waited for the programme to commence. As I heard mentioned all the old familiar places, contacts, and names, such as S. G. Ullman and Natacha, the years rolled back. Then Leslie spoke of Valentino’s mediumistic powers and of the poems which he had written under the influence of his own spirit guides, Meselope and Black Feather, and I felt I was living in a dream. Actually I had awakened to Reality, because from that moment the Influence, that has become the controlling factor in our lives, made itself felt.
After some deliberation I wrote to Leslie Flint and told him of my mother’s passing, and expressed an appreciation of his contribution to the programme. From this correspondence came an invitation to his home. Less than a week before the visit materialised I went to the Spiritualist Headquarters, now at 33 Belgrave Square, London, S.W. 1, to hear a lecture, and while I was waiting for it to begin, my attention was drawn to the heading of a news paper called “Two Worlds.” It said, “Rudolph Valentino talks to ‘Two Worlds’” and the subtitle read: “Idol of silent screen shuns the limelight.” I bought a copy immediately I left the lecture hail, and for the first time since 1927 I found myself reading a report of an actual message from Valentino, together with the story of Leslie Flint’s first contact with him which developed after his interest had been aroused by Natacha’s book.
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Leslie was only sixteen when he started his psychic development in a home circle, and it was not long before he became a trance medium under the control of a Spirit Group. But many years passed before he became the ‘voice’ medium whose integrity is without question, for the evidence, accumulated by hundreds of sitters over a period of thirty years, speaks for itself. From the article it was obvious that although he was Leslie Flint’s chief spirit guide now, Rudy rarely came through to speak though he had been a frequent communicator in the past. He preferred to remain in the background but on occasions had spoken to some of his old friends, many of whom had established beyond doubt that the communicator was Valentino. Now he was anxious to bring proof of the continuity of life, and to repay in service the love and regard bestowed upon him during his life on Earth.
My meeting with Leslie Flint was quite an experience. Several of his friends were already there when I arrived, and apparently they all shared an interest in old films, which were still to be seen at the National Film Theatre of which many were members. After tea Leslie produced a number of books and I withdrew from the guests who were engrossed in their discussions. Apart from expressing his sympathy over my mother’s passing, he never referred to the subject of Spiritualism I have since learned that he never discusses his work, but at the time I could not help feeling a little bewildered since my tentative enquiries as to the article in “Two Worlds” were met with polite but reticent replies. However, our meeting was one of mutual regard and a further invitation was extended to include John if he wished to accept.
On my second visit to Leslie’s he gave me a very tattered copy of the poems “Daydreams” that he had come across while browsing in old book shops, and as I turned over the discoloured pages I said laughingly to John, “Somehow I think this is where I came in!” How true those casual words proved to be in the years that followed!
It was about this time I began to have again what I can only describe as intuitions. I am no more a stranger to these than are many other people, but under war conditions with the attendant fears and tensions they had been especially evident, and now they seemed reawakened. By nature and nationality I am somewhat reticent when it comes to discussing personal matters and I have never found it easy to put my developing perceptions into words. However, I described them to John who listened attentively. I encouraged him to apply his logical reasoning to this “awareness” of mine and never once did he laugh at me, or criticise any confidence I gave him, with the result that we have maintained a constant and mutual exchange of innermost thoughts.
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Through the courtesy of Mr R. Gladwell who had presented the radio programme in May, I was able to obtain the address of Mr. Ullman. I wrote and asked if he could find a copy of “Daydeams.” Almost by return of post I received a charming letter enclosing the address of a dealer in Los Angeles through whom, not only have I been able to replace all I had in my childhood, but I have added to my original collection of books and articles, especially in regard to the little-known interest Rudy had in psychic things. Mr Ullman said in his letter that he felt I ‘had sensed the spirituality in Valentino that made his name live on through these long years.’
It became increasingly clear now that a plan was beginning to form, and I was impressed to keep a record of events. Shortly after receiving the book of poems from America I wrote these words in my notes :- ‘September 1955. Before this record is completed I hope I shall be given to understand the purpose behind all this, also the reason for being instinctively drawn to someone whom I never had the privilege to meet. That it is of psychic origin I have no doubt, but this fact I hope to prove.’
The realisation soon dawned that the sequence of events could no longer be considered mere coincidences, and I commenced to form a pattern of thought. I asked for help and guidance for myself and others, I gave thanks and expressed the desire to be of service to humanity, and gradually it became apparent that my thoughts and prayers were reaching a point of definite contact.
I had never been able to pray with the conviction that my prayers would be heard. Naturally I had felt the need to “find God” as everyone termed it, but I could not bring myself to believe that my insignificant thoughts could reach out to a remote and Supreme Consciousness, of whose existence however I had no doubt. In the glory of a sunset, in the wonders of Nature, I found abundant evidence of Divine Love. Until now, the song of the birds had been my hymn and a response to the glory of a sunrise was all I knew and understood of prayer. Therefore my first feeble attempt to send out my concentrated thought impulse was motivated only by the wish to convey gratitude for the spiritual awareness that was slowly developing.
For my prayer sessions I chose a time when I would not be interrupted and the late afternoon was ideal. Ten minutes sufficed in the early days, then it became twenty, and eventually half an hour. As vague uncertain prayer became deep meditation—and I
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have known this to last for over an hour—I had to curtail it, if only for the sake of the dinner that was waiting to be cooked! By this method alone my whole conscious effort became tuned in to some wonderful Source of inspiration, and I knew peace, real peace for the first time in my whole agitated life.
I made my first appointment for a séance with Leslie Flint on December, 8th 1955, three years almost to the day of my mother’s passing. Before relating the episodes of this sitting, I will explain as simply as possible what is meant by the Independent Direct Voice. Firstly, a medium is a person who has developed the sense of extended sight and hearing which enables that man or woman to tune in to a higher state of consciousness which lies beyond the range of perception of our normal earthly senses. A physical medium provides ectoplasm, which is a physical substance that can be manipulated by the controls and guides on the spirit side of life. It is a complicated process, and many people such as scientists and doctors whose skill and knowledge on Earth fitted them for this kind of work assist in constructing a replica of the larynx, which acts as an “etheric microphone.” The voices are quite independent of the vocal org of the medium and seem to come out of the air.
Complete darkness is essential for the construction of the ectoplasmic microphone by the spirit operators, because the voice box is as sensitive to light as a photographic plate. I have been given to understand that the spirit communicators impinge their thoughts on to this sensitive field and these are transmitted to us as sound. The voices sound exactly as if they were speaking by telephone, and no trumpet or other mechanical device is used. On this memorable day, Leslie and I talked of trivialities for a few minutes in the séance room, then he stubbed out his cigarette, turned out the light, and went on chatting! His conversation kept my mind relaxed but I was waiting for him to become quiet, which I thought necessary, when a perky little Cockney voice said, “Hello, lady! You don’t know me, do you?” “Oh, yes I do, Mickey, I have heard you once before.” His childish laughter filled the room and after a while he said, “You’re not scared are you, love?”
“No, not in the least. Only excited,” I told him.
He informed me that there were many people who would like to speak to me, and then there was a pause. Now I heard a woman’s voice rich and clear speaking in broken English with a French accent. I learned later that she was known as Sister Teresa. Her personality seemed to enfold me with gentleness, but her stay was cut short by a man’s voice with a similar accent, whose first words were; “You don’t know me, but I am interested in your son.”
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For personal reasons I cannot put into print all that passed between us. My son had been a great worry to me because due to the circumstances of his birth he was physically backward. He had attended a children’s clinic for two years but did not seem to be improving. I had pondered over the question of different treatment but Dr. Marcel, as the communicator proved to be, was opposed to this. He discussed every detail with me, and answered, unasked, many of the questions for which I had requested help during my prayer sessions. His last words regarding Anthony were: “One day you’ll have reason to be very proud of him.” Before his final “Au revoir” he asked me to come again soon and bring my husband, which I promised I would.
Another doctor followed who spoke in a cultured English voice to which it was a joy to listen, and gave the name of Dr. Charles Marshall. He confirmed and added to the advice already received, and was most insistent that we should both come again soon. In the pause, which was only momentary, I wondered at the urgency and the air of excitement that was transmitted by the very tone of their voices, then my thoughts were checked by a faint whisper. “Eveline, Eveline, [full name.] this is Mother. Can you hear my voice? Oh dear! This is so difficult.” Her ‘breathing’ became laboured, but after a moment she went on. “You had such a shock, and so did I! When your father made his presence known I argued with him, thinking it was a dream,” and suddenly she laughed, her very own, particular, infectious laugh, that I knew could not belong to anyone else at all.
The emotional tension having been broken we held a personal and intimate conversation. Her voice was faint but she seemed to be experiencing less difficulty. She said how wonderful it was to be with my father again, after thirty-three years’ separation, and she was looking forward to talking to John. Suddenly she changed the subject and mentioned something about being sorry regarding the books and photographs. I could not think to what she was referring. I had sorted out boxes of family books and photographs after her passing, but I could not understand what was worrying her. She realised I was puzzled and added with a burst of strength, “No, no, darling. Rudy’s photographs! Your photographs of Rudy and your books. I am so very sorry! I had no idea what they meant to you, and above all what they will mean to you yet. I will help you to replace them. You have had some already, haven’t you?”
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I tried to hide my amazement and hastened to assure her she had acted for the best and must not concern herself. Just before she left she turned towards Leslie (there is a distinct alteration in the direction of sound when this happens) and said, “Good afternoon, Mr. Flint. Do you remember me?” How typical of my mother! It had always required years of friendship before she would call anyone by their first name. They chatted together and then she said goodbye to me as someone else was waiting to speak. A soft girlish voice came through almost immediately, trembling with excitement, “Val, Val here. Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” I replied, “I can hear you.” I had not the faintest idea who it was.
“Val, Valerie. Oh Mummy! Don’t you know me?” I was beyond words. My little daughter, Anthony’s twin, had died at three days old. I lost control for a moment, but she was so excited it soon helped me regain my composure. She went on to tell me that she was surprised at my reaction for she knew that I had read a great deal on the subject, and therefore I should have been aware that a soul continues to grow if it passes over in infancy, but I must understand that her progress was much faster than Anthony’s and that now I should think of her as a young woman.
A soul if young when released from the body achieves maturity in a short period of time, and returns to maturity if the body is old at death. I knew all this, but it is one thing to read of it, and another to have the wonder of it revealed. She spoke of her father, and I made the point of stressing the fact that it was best that things had worked out as they had for the sake of all, but she interrupted me, “Mummy, I am not condemning, nor criticising, I am not in a position to judge, neither would I do so, but I want you to know how close I am to you and Daddy, and at the same time I want you to give my love to Uncle John and tell him I thank him for all he has been to you, and that I am glad you are so happy together. I will speak to him when he comes here. Oh, this is so wonderful! But I must go because the power is going. Come again soon, Mummy.” Mickey closed the sitting with a few hurriedly spoken words and we sat for some seconds before Leslie put on the light.
“It is a strange thing,” he said as he opened the door into the lounge, “but when that first doctor spoke, I could have sworn it was Valentino. Until I heard the French accent I was sure it was. I had rather hoped he would come today.” I was not yet fully composed, and felt stunned by all that had happened. As he spoke
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I looked up at the coloured photograph hanging on the wall beside the door. I studied the strong face and clear-cut profile. It was rather presumptuous to expect him to come through to me, I thought. But I said: “If ever he knows the part he played in bringing me into this Truth, perhaps he will come and speak to me one day.” How was I to know, at that stage, that he was near and perfectly aware of all that was taking place?
It was a week later when Leslie invited John and me to attend a séance with six other sitters, which gave us the opportunity of hearing the wonderful evidence given to the various members. One of the lady communicators was a most impressive orator, which might be expected. for we discovered afterwards it was the famous actress Mrs. Patrick Campbell whose voice had a clear ringing tone that could not fail to arrest one’s attention. My mother and Valerie spoke to us both, and asked us to come again at a later date, which we arranged for February 24th,1956.
By the time this date arrived we were beginning to know, and to recognise our communicators by their first greetings. Mickey was always the one to break the ice and make the sitters feel at ease, and my mother was mastering the art of using the Independent Voice and now spoke with much greater strength. On this occasion she surprised me by asking John what he thought of Valentino! John said he hoped he would have the opportunity of getting to know him and caused much laughter by saying he remembered his films much better than I did, since be was nine years older, but that he had been an admirer of William S. Hart and Tom Mix of the “stick ‘em up and shoot ‘em fast” variety! There is never much tension in the air with John around!
When Sister Teresa came through I asked her in an indirect manner why I should feel drawn to what was after all only a shadow personality. She avoided an immediate reply, but went on to say that John and I had come together to fulfill spiritual purpose and much work lay ahead of us. Then she added that there are many forms of love. Human love was one thing, spiritual love another, and they operate on different planes, each as important yet distinct from the other. I told her I found it difficult to understand what was meant by spiritual love, but she merely said, “You will.” Then she asked us to come again as there were others who wished to speak about our future work for the Spirit! For a brief moment one of John’s relations spoke and his parting words were rather touching; he seemed to lean forward and in a confidential tone whispered, “You’ve been very blessed, my boy,”
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Naturally, Jean and Stanley, our nearby friends, followed these events with fluctuating interest. Jean who knew me very well accepted my judgment. Stanley who was hardly acquainted with me viewed the whole affair with dubious sentiments. He listened politely as I explained that the medium could not possibly have known the details of my private life. Leslie knew my present name only, and I doubt if he knew that I had a son, let alone a daughter whose existence I had put out of my own mind! But why go on? I had experienced something precious, something almost divine, and I could not make it a subject for argument. I gave Stanley the facts but made no attempt to convince him, for I remembered that once I too had been a sceptic. Therefore, he awaited impartially John’s reaction to those first private sittings, which he expected to coincide with his own opinions. His curiosity became more roused when he observed the discerning mind of the male species bowing before the indisputable evidence, and when Jean expressed the wish to join us on our next visit, he did not object.
Each time we had a séance it became obvious that my mother was not only urging us towards a more serious approach in developing our own latent psychic powers, but she was deliberately bringing Valentino to my mind again, not as the myth which publicity would have one believe existed, but as a very real, vital personality. So, with Leslie Flint’s assistance I began to piece together the true aspects of the man. As we sifted through the mass of journalism—much of which I had never seen—I realised something of the legend which had surrounded him, of which seventy-five per cent was sheer nonsense. Naturally the most reliable source of information is found in the two books written by those nearest to him, his wife and his business manager, and from these alone emerges a very different conception of Valentino.
Behind the synthetic personality lay a quiet and reserved man. He was very well educated, and spoke four languages. The natural grace which accompanied all his actions was perfected through his skill in dancing, fencing, boxing and wrestling. He was, of course, a magnificent horseman, being the son of an Italian cavalry officer and veterinary doctor, from whom he inherited his extra ordinary love of animals. His wife shared this quality and between them they had the oddest assortment of creatures from monkeys to lion cubs. The Valentino menagerie was smiled upon indulgently by the neighbours until the day when a half-grown lioness padded leisurely down Sunset Boulevard!
Rudy was a perfectionist and made a deep study of the costumes, mannerisms, and the way of life of many nationalities in different periods of time, which added to the authentic settings of his films
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after he became famous and had some say in the matter. In the early days of course he was at the mercy of the film directors. He took a keen interest in philosophy and read avidly anything that helped to broaden his outlook in this direction. All of which forms the foundation of the work which he is called upon to do at the present time through his medium, and from which we and thousands of other people have benefited.
It was midsummer before we had another sitting and this time Jean accompanied us. She in turn received such evidence from her relations and her father that she was unable to refute or deny any statement. Her father recalled the manner of his passing, and told her that the old dog Mike was with him. My mother, whom Jean recognised before my greeting identified her, astounded us by discussing the health condition of a friend of Jean’s for whom we had been asking help in our daily sessions. Dr Marshall then continued on more scientific lines and admitted the case was a difficult one, but assured us of every assistance. In this way we learned of the power of prayer.
For months afterwards, unknown to the patient, spirit doctors and helpers brought their healing power to bear on him, working in unison with the hospital treatment he was receiving. On one occasion, Dr Marshall said it was almost impossible to keep life within the partly paralysed body, yet today, still in ignorance of the tremendous effort that was made on his behalf, he is well enough to live a normal life and to drive his car. Spiritual healing is not dependent on the patient’s co-operation, but naturally an active response enhances the possibility of recovery.
However, we must return to the sitting and join the moment of hushed silence that followed Dr. Marshall’s departure. A voice we had not heard before commenced to speak, and as the deep slow words fell on our ears the atmosphere of the room seemed to change. “Greetings, my children,” and we knew instinctively we were in the presence of an evolved soul. “I am happy to welcome you here, and I rejoice to know that you are beginning your spiritual development at last! We have waited many years for you to start.” Anxiously we enquired how we were to set about this work of which he was speaking. “Sit together in peace and harmony, in quietness of body and mind one with the other. Allow thoughts of love to come uppermost in your minds; offer yourselves for service to the Great Spirit. We shall be with you, and together we shall gradually make progress. Your husband is not with you, my sister?” He was obviously speaking to Jean, who explained that Stanley was not familiar with the proceedings and had not expressed a desire to come with us.
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“He will come next time we speak together. He is much more interested than he cares to admit, and he too will sit with you, in fact he will be your medium!” he announced firmly. If we had been told we were going to sit with the Wizard of Oz as our medium, the remark would have been met with greater belief and less astonishment! There was a note of amusement in the voice as he cautioned us: “It would be as well not to inform our brother of this for the time being, or his surprise would be greater than yours, yet in many ways he will prove to be even more enthusiastic than you. Do as I have advised and leave it to the Power of the Spirit to influence him. You will get results, this I promise you.” As he stopped speaking I asked his name. “I am White Cloud,” he said, and I murmured my thanks.
Vaguely the name stirred a chord of memory, but it was some weeks later when I received a copy of Natacha’s book from America that I came across the name. White Cloud (the guide of George Wehner) who had taught Rudy a few days after his passing how to communicate through a medium, in those far-off days at the château in the South of France where his wife and family were living at the time.
Following the advice given to us by White Cloud, on our return home we said very little about the séance. Stanley was tolerantly amused when we three started our weekly sittings at my home in early June, but by the second week in July he could contain himself no longer and announced suddenly to his wife, “I’ll come along next Monday evening and see what’s going on!”
“Do,” Jean replied with averted head to hide a smile, “we shall be pleased to have you.”
Considering we were all inexperienced we three had blended together extremely well, and found no difficulty in exchanging our thoughts and feelings. Stanley’s presence did not inhibit this confidence and he proved a very restful sitter, even though he was a somewhat puzzled one. Afterwards he remarked upon the wonderful atmosphere of peace and quietness during that hour and a half of complete relaxation.
In August, John, Anthony, and I realised a cherished dream. We went to Italy. We were in Rimini on the Adriatic coast on the anniversary of Rudy’s death, and in spite of my appalling Italian I was able to order a floral tribute to be sent to Taranto Cathedral. Strange to relate, that year his home town not far from Taranto arranged a celebration to his memory, whereas up to that time he had been forgotten.
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Apart from a plaque set on the wall of the house where he was born, which had been presented by Italian immigrants in Cincinnati, U.S.A., “Rodolfo” was relegated to oblivion. It was the small account of this festivity in an English newspaper which prompted me to write to the official responsible for the commemoration and ask for. a photograph of his home. I did not receive a reply until the following February. Nor did I foresee that this simple request would meet with such response.
After our return from Italy we began to get our sittings properly organised, an important item being the making of black-out frames for the back bedroom of either flat, this room being chosen on account of its quietness. The advantage of interchangeable frames was evident during times of illness or other events, such as house decorations, all of which have happened without interrupting the sittings. We were in mutual agreement over the desirability of complete black-out, as concentration was better, and we found it easier to say what we thought we saw, or felt.
Stanley was getting clairvoyant vision now, and as it was presented to him, so he described it to us, and we accepted or rejected it according to our reasoning. He made no attempt to interpret what he saw, and in this manner the influence of his own mind was kept at a minimum.
Since our return from Italy, I had wanted to ask Leslie if he could arrange for us to speak to Rudy, yet I was reluctant to do so, as Leslie had frequently stressed the point that all he could do was to act as the medium through whose power those in the spirit world could speak. He claimed no authority to ask for any particular person to communicate. In any case, it is customary to await the presence of the spirit people, and too much concentration on one person can often put up a barrier. But the urge was so insistent that I eventually succumbed to it, and wrote for an appointment with this idea in mind.
I did not include Jean or Stanley as sitters when I wrote for this special sitting because Stanley had not yet attended a séance with a professional medium and I did not know how he would react. Besides which it would be natural that he would want to ask questions and seek personal evidence. He still did not know that he was destined to develop strong mediumistic powers, although he had accepted the philosophy more readily than we had thought possible. Even when he found that he was getting clairvoyant vision he did not register great surprise, as we too were getting fragments, and he seemed to accept the whole unusual experience with
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a calm detachment. Therefore, as we four were already booked for our first sitting together on September 21st, I felt justified in omitting them for this occasion.
Leslie booked the red letter day for John and me on September 30th, 1956, when we were to be his guests. He said he would invite one or two members of his own circle to sit with us, and he would have the tape recorder running, but of course he could not guarantee that Valentino would come through, and he advised us to avoid too much concentration or expectancy.
The thought that this contact had even been considered seemed hardly believable, after the remoteness of the past thirty years, and in my records I wrote these words, which briefly sum up the whole enigmatical situation as I awaited the appointed day: Beyond the feeling of pent-up excitement I am aware of a deep sense of humbleness. Rudy has the power to move me inwardly, all the time. The persistent thought demands attention . . . have we met in another life span?”
I had always rejected the theory of reincarnation because it filled me with the fear of separation and I had deliberately avoided accepting this, or bringing my reason to bear upon it. I knew that Rudy believed in it and also the Law of Karma, yet his opinion of these matters in no way agreed with mine. “This contact, should it be realised, doubtlessly will lead to a further study of this debatable subject,” my notes concluded.
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